


Tongues of Serpents

by elynne



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Asgard (Marvel), First Thor Movie Replacement, Other, The Nine Realms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2019-07-18 20:03:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16125740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elynne/pseuds/elynne
Summary: A diplomatic mission to Asgard attempts to forge a peace treaty between two powerful, long-lived peoples. History, intrigue, deception, and misunderstandings threaten this fragile web of diplomacy. Can an untitled guard make an alliance with an adopted noble that will change the fates of all the Nine Realms?





	1. Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> This very long story is already about 95% written. I will attempt to post one chapter weekly, possibly on Thursday because I find it amusing. One chapter towards the end contains explicit sex; I will include a warning note when it arrives, and it is skippable.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A diplomatic mission to Asgard attempts to forge a peace treaty between two powerful, long-lived peoples. History, intrigue, deception, and misunderstandings threaten this fragile web of diplomacy. Can an untitled guard make an alliance with an adopted noble that will change the fates of all the Nine Realms?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This very long story is already about 95% written. I will attempt to post one chapter weekly, on Thursday because I find it amusing. One chapter towards the end contains explicit sex; I will include a warning note when it arrives, and it is skippable. Also, I have changed the main character's name (again) retroactively, so if you're remembering the MC being called something else, that's why.

The competition for honor guards had been fierce, lasting almost twenty years. Although I had been given high marks as a warrior and better than average in skaldic performance, I shone most brightly in the arenas of diplomacy, history, and dissembling. It helped that I had been fascinated by the history between Asgard and my home realm since I was a youth, and I’d always excelled at games of intrigue and deception. I was too young and inexperienced to be given a speaking role in the expedition, but I was one of only four guards chosen for the diplomatic delegation to the home of our ancient enemies.

When we arrived at the end of Bifrost, the famous “rainbow bridge,” Heimdall stood to greet us alone, a motionless figure in golden armor gleaming under the light of Asgard’s miniature sun. In a ritual exchange, he demanded our weapons, until our diplomats’ stylized protests were overcome and we turned over several items—some for safekeeping, some as gifts—while being allowed to carry our own personal “peacebonded” arms. He knew as well as we did that all of these weapons were entirely ceremonial. My people make good use of technology, but we prefer to fight naked and unarmed. I was very curious about how Heimdall perceived us, as I knew that his magically enhanced vision could not be fooled by our current forms, but I didn’t have the opportunity to ask before he directed us to a waiting skybarge piloted by several royal guards, with plenty of room for our small party of four guards and two ambassadors.

Asgard is the name of both the artificial planetoid that is the home of the Aesir and the capital city of that small realm. Our brief trip from the landing point at the end of Bifrost to the looming structure of the Palace was prolonged into a sweeping arc over and across the city. I’m sure that we were meant to be impressed, maybe even awed, by the casual display of engineering and technology on display for the journey. We took our cues from our cultural advisers as best we could, making expressions and gestures indicating approval and admiration. At the same time, we couldn’t help being distracted by the hidden world that few of the Aesir themselves could see, yet that exists right alongside their own. We noticed the scars, where damage to structures had been repaired; we glanced over the careful restorations where time had eroded delicate details away from the looming statuary; and we saw the complex web of energy and carefully hidden understructure of the past, the aetheric tapestry that is the foundation of every ancient civilization. Asgard’s history of creation in warfare, its defense and fortification, was as plain for us to see as all the grand and shining decorations that had since encrusted every surface of the city. It is a saying among our people that every utopia is built upon a mountain of bones. There may be an exception to that rule, but we haven’t found it yet.

One of the most important traits that been considered in the selection of our guards was patience. Of course, our ambassadors had ages more experience in dealing with such things, but it was difficult not to grow increasingly restless with every stop along the route to our formal announcement and presentation. When we disembarked from the skybarge, there was a ceremony, along with what I’m sure they thought was a discreet attempt to screen us for hidden weapons. Then we went up a flight of steps into a reception hall, where there was another ceremony. After that was a longer hallway, and we stopped before a huge, closed portal for yet another ceremony. Each ritual was longer than the one before it. The diplomats had plenty to do, giving carefully worded affirmations of peaceful intent and nonaggression to every thinly veiled challenge. As a guard, my role consisted entirely of walking from one position to another, then standing there as still as possible, looking calm and alert.

My job wasn’t entirely ceremonial, though. At every step and stop, we kept constant vigil for unexpected movements or the possibility of threat, while our elders were occupied with the delicate business of diplomacy. We had been at peace for centuries with Asgard, but there were plenty of Aesir still alive who remembered the ages of conflict that had come before. It didn’t help that my people had a reputation for treachery—or that the reputation was pretty well deserved. We’d all been warned that some of our hosts would most likely see our mission as a hostile invasion, no matter how polite and well-mannered we were, and take the defense of the realm into their own hands. We’re even harder to kill than an Aesir, but they’d had centuries of practice to figure out some nasty tricks. A lone fanatic wasn’t out of the question, or even an assassin armed and silently sanctioned by their government.

We’d had plenty of training, but no amount of practice can prepare a person for the experience of hours of grinding tedium, while simultaneously having to maintain a razor-sharp edge of alert wariness under a shell of stolid immobility. If I’d been in my natural form, I doubt I would have been able to stop my tailtip from twitching.

At long, long last, the portal to the grand public throne room spun open, and we ascended a flight of steps to emerge into an immense hall, as large as the Caldera in our homeland. Nearly three-quarters of the chamber was open to the sky above, and I had a moment of irritation when I realized we could have simply docked our skybarge on the ledge I could see on the open side of the platform and saved several hours of pointless rituals. A vast length of stone floor decorated with intricate designs led from the doorway to the foot of the central throne, lined on both sides by guards in gleaming armor and bristling with weapons that weren’t entirely decorative. Behind the guards were swirls and clusters of diplomats, courtiers, minor nobility, and hopeful social climbers. Some stared at us with open hostility, but most seemed just curious, and some even managed to look bored. Though the room, and the tiers of balconies above, could have held thousands of spectators, there were not more than a couple of hundred Aesir present.

A huge gilded throne sat on a stepped dais in an oval of pillars, occupied by an imposing, elderly Aesir who I assumed must be Odin Allfather, the ruler of Asgard. A pair of black avians were perched, one on either side of the throne’s back, watching attentively. I remembered from my history that Aesir preferred hereditary rule though male descendants—so the Aesir individual standing on the steps immediately to his right must be Thor, Odin’s son and heir. The person standing on his left appeared to be about his own age, so it seemed a safe guess to be Frigga, Odin’s mate. There were a few others standing on either side before the throne, in what seemed to be a descending order of importance, but my attention stopped dead at the sight of the person placed at Thor’s right hand, one step below him.

I think our entire delegation noticed zir simultaneously. At least, all of us stumbled or hesitated just a tiny bit. It didn’t last more than a second before the diplomats had their inscrutable expressions repaired and we fell back into practiced lockstep. In that second, an assassin could probably have taken out several of us, or perhaps even all. None of us had expected to see a Jotun shape-shifter holding an obvious high position at this court.

If any of the Aesir noticed our surprise, they gave no sign. However, the Jotun obviously had. None of the Asgardians were watching the dais, and so none but our party caught zir very slight smirk. We ignored it, of course, but inside my impassive shell I was burning with curiosity.

Finally arriving at the foot of the platform, we knelt, heads bowed and fists pressed to our chests in the traditional Aesir salute gesture, until Odin gave us permission to rise. After standing, we four guards took positions at four corners of a box around the envoys, each facing outward diagonally from each other. Aesir guards would have probably all continued to face the throne, or perhaps stayed behind entirely, but this was our own traditional formation. As it happened, this positioned me almost directly facing the Jotun.

Despite my interest in the history and culture of Asgard and its people, I’d never gotten the hang of correctly identifying mammalian genders at first sight. I knew that facial hair was a strong indicator of maleness, while long manes were more often associated with females, but I also knew that these things varied hugely within most cultures by fashion and personal inclination. Their clothing was also diverse, according to personal and societal styles—no help to be had there. The determining characteristics of their mammalian anatomy were often covered by their clothing, in layers that seemed designed to deliberately obscure the matter. I’d never understood the ridiculous amount of importance that most mammalian species seemed to place on gender determination, especially given the fact that they usually only had two recognized genders anyway, and the extraordinary lengths they often went to hide what that gender actually was.

As I stared at the Jotun, I remembered some oddly vague mention in our agents’ reports of Odin having another child, besides his heir. Given zir position on the steps before Odin’s throne, it seemed that this Jotun was considered some kind of relative. Nothing I’d heard had specified zir species, gender, or even name, and we’d of course assumed zie was an Aesir, possibly underage, and of no particular importance. Now that I saw zir, I thought I could better understand the lack of information. Although zie appeared to fit well within standard species deviations for an Aesir, zir aetheric pattern proclaimed zir true species for anyone with the ability or skill to look. I knew that the current trend of Asgardian society was strongly averse to technomancy, which explained why zir background wasn’t common knowledge—there were probably very few others, if any, capable of seeing through zir Aesir form in the assembled crowd.

I was surprised to the point of being shocked when I realized the most likely reason for Odin to have “adopted” a Jotun: a child given by the Frost Giants as a hostage to ensure their good behavior in the aftermath of the most recent war, almost certainly from Jotun royalty. The practice had been fairly common in Asgardian history, but to me it seemed repellent and barbaric.

I found my thoughts turning to speculation of zir gender, quite indecently. Zie had no facial hair, indicating femininity. Zie was also quite slender, with delicate facial features, also usually female traits in Aesir. Zie wore trousers, though, often a masculine affectation in this culture, as well as a gold helmet with a pair of long, swept-back horns. I thought they looked rather attractive on zir, much more so than the wings on Thor’s helmet or the flat crest on Odin’s. I was caught a little by surprise when the Jotun bowed, and it took me a minute to realize that the gesture was in response to something Odin was saying, not aimed at me directly.

“And I present to you Loki Odinson, the Clever One, who will one day defend this realm with his mastery of technomancy and the aetheric arts.”

The one named as Loki straightened up, smiling. Zie—he, evidently—plucked at the nearby aetheric threads with a subtle twitch of his fingers, and through them pulled an illusion of himself up directly in front of me. I could sense similar illusions had sprung up to face the other guards as well. The images bowed in unison, mimicking the bow that Loki had just made to our party, then straightened up and gave a quick wink of one eye before vanishing. I glanced back at Loki and raised an eyebrow by just a fraction. He responded by widening his smile just a fraction.

My attention to threats suffered badly through what remained of the ceremony. I reassured myself that it was unlikely that an attack would be made here, so publicly, right in front of the ruling powers. This audience was just a formality, of course. There would be many meetings to come between our diplomats and theirs as a pace treaty, one that would ideally last ten thousand years, was hammered out. I could expect to stay in Asgard for at least several months, if not years—or longer.

As I tried not to stare at the intriguing Jotun, I found myself quite pleased with the prospect of staying for a while.


	2. First Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Safe in the (relative) privacy of their own suite, the ambassadors' party takes a brief break to relax and discuss what they've seen so far.

Our assigned apartments were huge by Aesir standards. Had we shifted into our natural forms, they would have been quite cramped, but there was at least enough room for that to be possible. Our hosts had also been thoughtful enough to add a large, stone-lined sauna to the suite for us, which was big enough for all four of us guards in our native shapes, or for Aizerue, the eldest and therefore largest, alone. We gathered in the main sitting room in the humanoid forms we had been wearing and looked at each other for a few moments, then all turned to stare at Scathsa, who stared back blankly for a minute before remembering eir job. E wiggled eir fingers, then consulted a device embedded in eir bracer, and nodded. “Heimdall’s still watching, of course, but there were also three other observation sources, all now blocked,” e confirmed. “And Heimdall can see us, but he can’t hear.”

“As far as we know,” Aizerue added, in the best approximation of our native language that was possible to pronounce without a muzzle. “Best to avoid using their tongue when discussing confidential matters.”

Laharu took off his crested guard helmet, releasing his short fire-red hair to tumble over his shoulders, then stuck out his own tongue, looking down at it cross-eyed. It was a lighter blue than the skin of his face. Like the rest of us, he’d retained the natural narrow, fluted shape of his tongue, which was more than agile enough for any humanoid form of speech. Pulling it back into his mouth with a comical slurp, he remarked, “I don’t think I could use one of their tongues if I tried!” The rest of us snickered, and even Aizerue cracked a smile.

This seemed to break the feeling of stiff formality that we’d fallen into since our arrival. All of us stretched, groaning with relief as we removed various items of restrictive or uncomfortable clothing, and tried to figure out how to relax on the Aesir furniture in our humanoid shapes.

“Well, one of us has to say it,” Daucus said, sprawled across some kind of couch. Hir emerald green eyes stood out amid the orange skin of hir face, matching the short, feathery hair that wisped around hir head as hie glanced around at the rest of us. “What in all the Realms is a Jotun doing on the royal dais of Asgard?”

“I have a guess,” I volunteered. The others listened as I explained my hostage theory, Daucus nodding thoughtful agreement.

“It’s a sound theory, and unless we’re given information to the contrary, we’ll go with it.” Aizerue sighed and leaned back, then winced and leaned forward again, gingerly patting the sculpted mass of eir long, light blue hair. There were sympathetic grimaces all around, but we had agreed when we were grafted with our carefully tailored humanoid forms to keep them on as much as possible while in Asgard, and not to shift out of them for convenience or comfort—especially since we knew there would always be at least one observer—except in the sauna, set aside especially for that purpose.

“But you mustn’t ask, or being it up directly,” Daucus cautioned us. “If this theory is correct, it’s probably a delicate diplomatic situation. They didn’t provide us with that information for a reason, and whatever the reason is, we’ll have to be very careful around the subject.”

“If we can get the information in other ways…” Scathsa said, trailing off suggestively.

Daucus snorted. “Sigyn performed much better in tests of subterfuge than you did. I think you should leave the more subtle information gathering to zir.”

I grinned at Scathsa, twitching my fingers in a clumsy approximation of a friendly wing-flutter. “Yeah, leave the subtlety to me, Stonefoot.” Scathsa, who had scored the lowest of us all in intrigue to earn that nickname, growled and threw a cushion at my head, but e had a wry grin on eir flat, purple humanoid face.

“I’d also guess that the Jotun already thinks favorably of us, for whatever reason,” I mused, stretching out on the floor. “Zie—he—winked at us. Or his illusions did, anyway. That gesture usually means approval and possibly collusion, right?” I looked over at Daucus, who looked back blankly. “You know—the one-eyed blink thing?” I made an exaggerated wink to demonstrate.

“I didn’t see that,” Daucus replied. Looking around, everybody else was shrugging or shaking their heads. “It seems that wink was intended for you alone, Sigyn.”

“A wink can also indicate flirtatious intent,” Malalik added. “For whatever reason, Loki definitely wove that particular illusion so only you could see it.”

I nodded, already building plans and scenarios in my imagination. “I’ll start work on him right away, then. He could be a valuable ally.”

“Or he could be an extremely dangerous enemy.” Aizerue leaned forward, eir piercing ice-blue eyes intent in eir pale face. “Any appearance of friendship could be a ruse, to trick you into giving away information or even trap you in a position to be harmed or killed. We must never forget our history with the ruling family of Asgard, or rely too much on their seemingly innocent intentions.” We all nodded grimly, and there was a long moment of silence.

“We should start preparing for the banquet tonight,” Daucus eventually reminded us, to a chorus of groans. “The guards should eat before leaving—you’ll be expected to continue guarding us through the whole thing, so you won’t be given food or a seat at the table.”

“More standing,” Laharu grumbled, weaving a few strands of aether to soothe the muscles of his unaccustomed plantigrade legs.

Malalik, the midnight-colored leader of our little quartet of guards, looked back over her shoulder at him as she was collecting plates of food from the well-stocked buffet table in our suite. “Be thankful you’re not one of the diplomats,” she told him as she handed him a plate. “Trying to eat politely while navigating the politics involved would give me a headache.”

We all peered curiously at the contents of our plates, poking and sniffing each object dubiously, while our ambassadors watched us with faintly amused smiles. Finally, Scathsa picked up a squishy, off-white cube of something and popped it into eir mouth. “At least the food is good,” e said indistinctly. The rest of us began picking at the unfamiliar items, and were pleased to discover that more of them were pleasantly tasty than otherwise. The two elders discussed diplomatic strategy while we ate.

After nearly an hour of getting properly attired again, with much mutual advice and assistance, an Aesir courier and several guards were summoned to guide us to the banquet hall. Armored and inscrutable once more, we followed them to our first dinner in Asgard.


	3. Banquet and Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The diplomatic party gets their first informal look at the interactions of the royal family of Asgard, and establishes a routine that they expect to keep up for a long time to come.

Our diplomats had been assigned seats near the head of the long banquet table, between members of the ruling family, and it was not entirely coincidental that I wound up standing behind Daucus’ chair, who was seated next to Loki. For this occasion, we guards stood in pairs with our backs against the wall, looking inwards at the table over the heads of our charges but giving the servants plenty of room to do their own jobs. Since our expressions could be clearly seen by everyone seated on the opposite side, we were careful to maintain our impassive masks for the entire event, although this was quite difficult at times. We also refrained from making aetheric comments to each other, since Odin and Loki at least would be able to see them, though as far as we knew they probably wouldn’t be able to interpret what they saw, or the fluctuations in our aetheric patterns that we allowed to play like expressions across our physical forms. 

There seemed to be a fragile bubble of formality surrounding the head of the table. Conversation was stilted and rather sparse. Thor in particular did not speak much, staring at his wine cup with a scowl that darkened as the noise at the other end of the table increased. Finally, he stood up from his chair.

“Thank you for dinner, father. Thank you for your attendance, Niddroghn. Please accept my absence, as there are matters I must attend elsewhere.” He didn’t wait for approval before stalking away to join a group of other Aesir closer to his own age at the far end of the table.

“I’m frankly surprised he lasted as long as he did,” Loki remarked with just the hint of a smirk.

“My heir is not adept at diplomacy, and has little patience for formality.” Odin shook his head and signaled for his cup to be refilled.

At the mention of Thor being Odin’s heir, I noticed Loki’s aetheric pattern—his aura—flicker with jagged bolts of dark blue, though his manner did not change in the slightest. I wasn’t familiar enough with Jotun to know exactly what this signified, but I would have wagered a stack of gold coins that he was feeling some strong, unpleasant emotions.

“He will learn,” Frigga said, with serene confidence. “Time and experience will temper him. And of course, he will have the wise counsel and support of his brother, who possesses every measure of patience that Thor does not.” Her smile at Loki was warm, her aura glowing gently with strong, genuine affection. His own aura brightened in response as he returned her smile.

“He yearns to be a warrior king, following in the footsteps of his ancestral heroes.” Odin snorted and gestured at Aizerue. “He takes his band of adventuring companions across the realms, looking for problems to solve, preferably with his hammer. I have strictly forbidden him access to Jotunheim, else I fear he would shatter that fragile truce in an instant.”

“The young are given to impetuousness,” Aizerue said, a subtle reminder that our people’s lifespans run as long as those of the Aesir, if not longer. “I am pleased to know that our negotiations will be made with more measured temperaments.” E bowed eir head to Odin, Frigga, and then to Loki. I didn’t need to see his aura to confirm the Jotun’s pleasure at this acknowledgment. 

Odin raised his eyebrows. “It is true that my eldest son has more to learn before he is ready to take the throne; but so too do you, Loki.” He waved at his adopted son, who blinked at him in surprise. “Both of you will take part in the negotiations.”

A jumble of colors flickered through Loki’s aura, but his expression was perfectly calm as he nodded to his father, pressing his fist to his chest in salute. “I thank you for the honor and the responsibility, and will strive to represent the Aesir to the best of my ability.”

A burst of raucous cheers from the other end of the table drew everyone’s attention. Thor had seated himself with his friends, one of whom had climbed onto a chair and seemed to be attempting to show the others the sole of zir boot, to much shouted encouragement. Zie almost immediately lost zir balance and crashed directly onto the table, sprawling amid the banquet dishes, to a chorus of laughter and hoots from zir companions.

“I will also strive to keep a tight rein on my brother,” Loki added quietly. His aura was once again bristling with bursts of dark blue lightning as he glared down the length of the table at his adopted sibling.

It was hard to keep from smiling.

At the end of the banquet, those of us who had been standing guard were more than happy to escort the diplomats to our assigned quarters for a chance to rest. We agreed to draw lots to determine who would sleep in the sauna room each night. Daucus won the first night’s privilege. There was just barely room for one of us youngsters to squeeze in with hir, and Scathsa won that draw. The rest of us made the best of it in Aesir forms, on Aesir furniture, in an Aesir building, in the Aesir capital. Between all of us, I doubt that we slept more than a dozen hours.

Daucus and Scathsa were disgustingly cheerful the next morning. The rest of us grumbled, wrapped ourselves in clothes and armor, and drank two pots of very strong tea before a page arrived to show us to the meeting hall.

The hall itself was startlingly plain. Having grown somewhat accustomed to ostentatious architecture and endless golden ornamentation, the lack of decoration in the meeting chamber was rather soothing. A long, oval table surrounded by a dozen hovering chairs dominated the room. On the far side of the table, our hosts rose to greet us—Thor, Loki, and several others who introduced themselves as various diplomats, scholars, and strategists. There was a brief moment of tension before the four Aesir guards turned and marched out of the room. We followed them, leaving Aizerue and Daucus to begin their work while we took up positions in the hallway outside and prepared for a long wait.

It was dull, but I amused myself by watching the aura of my Aesir counterpart across the hallway. Zie had recently fallen in love. Every time zir attention wandered, zir aura bloomed with a webwork of intricate patterns, punctuated with bright bursts of light. Being able to see auras is far from reading minds, but it’s the next best thing, especially when observing people with no training or defenses against it. It’s often possible to guess what a person is thinking in a conversation based on the emotional responses flickering across their aura, if you have learned the aetheric patterns of the person’s species. Also, warriors usually telegraph their movements in their auras, and knowing what to look for and how to take advantage of it is part of why my people are so feared and respected on the battleground. It was a strategic advantage that I knew our elders would be making the most of in the treaty discussions, as well.

After a few hours, servants arrived to bring food to the delegates. We accompanied them in, along with the Aesir guards, and watched closely. Once lunch had been served, we retreated back to the hallway, each of us carrying a hidden small container of food we’d gathered from the trays ourselves. The four of us took turns to eat and rest, setting an illusion of ourselves still standing at attention while sitting on the floor behind, enjoying an invisible and silent snack. There was plenty of room in the wide hallway and little danger of accidental contact, so our illusions were the simplest kind—projected images with no substance at all. Our intelligence reports had assured us that the majority of Aesir were unable to detect or see through even the most basic illusions, and this also served as a positive test of that premise, since the guards never reacted with even a flicker in their auras.

I was very glad for the break. The guards opposite us had been changed, and we faced a different set of four than we had before lunch. The Aesir standing opposite me now had an utterly boring aura. For whatever reason, zir emotions were disconnected from zir thoughts. Only the occasional ripple of color or movement broke the otherwise blank, slow swirl of zir aura, and it was hard to keep my own attention from wandering.

By the time the meeting was adjourned a few hours later I was beyond relieved to be done for the day. As the Aesir delegates trooped out of the room and into the hallway, Loki glanced back at me and winked again, his aura shining and sparkling under his solemn expression. I stared at him for a moment before snapping back to attention. Whatever his intentions were in making that gesture, my curiosity was now fully engaged.


	4. Party Circuit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversations, meetings, introductions, intrigue, agendas, deception, and just a dash of flirtation.

After we returned to our suite, I asked for and gained permission to go out alone and see if I could establish contact with the enigmatic Jotun. The original plan had been to keep our heads down and collect information before making a move, but since Loki was going to such lengths to get my attention, we all agreed that it’d be a waste not to accept the implied invitation.

I selected a loose, flowing tunic and trousers from the collective wardrobe, and Daucus helped me choose the colors and fabrics. Between the two of us, with some advice from Aizerue, we fussed with the clothing for quite a while before settling on its appearance. Those of us whose genders were unknown or unfamiliar to the Aesir had structured our humanoid forms to be as androgynous as possible. The Aesir fashion code called for elaborate, long gowns for females, and either armor or tunics and trousers for males, but we’d documented enough exceptions that I felt reasonably certain the assembled outfit wouldn’t violate the rules too badly in either direction. Besides, I’d chosen bright gold eyes, a shoulder-length mane of iridescent crimson fur, and burnished copper skin for my Aesir guard shape, all of which marked me clearly enough as an alien that any irregularities in my costume would likely be overlooked.

The next trick, of course, was to find my contact. Our embassy had been sent a half-dozen invitations for private gatherings, receptions, and celebrations just on the first night, but there was no way to know which if any of these he’d be at. On the other side, it seemed very likely that he’d be keeping an eye on my movements. I decided to make a leisurely tour through the party circuit and see what happened. If nothing else, I’d be able to pick up a sense of how the populace felt about our people.

Leaving the suite and navigating the halls of the enormous palace wasn’t difficult. As I neared the entrance to the first party, however, my pace began to slow. I couldn’t be a silent warrior here; this situation would call for careful observation, smooth social skills, and a good measure of guile. I found myself wondering if I was really ready to mingle with the Aesir on this level. Perhaps I should have waited a week or so, as we’d originally planned, to gather more information and get a better feel for how these people behaved?

While I hesitated in the hallway, a pair of revelers came out, laughing and leaning on each other, one waving a mug with enough drink still in it to spatter across the nearest wall. They stopped short when they saw me. With the appearance of an audience, my performing instincts and training fell into place. I smiled and half-bowed to the pair. “Good evening, gentle beings,” I said, then strolled past them and into the party.

The room was large, high-arched, and full of Aesir drinking, shouting, jostling each other, and laughing. My entrance was greeted with a moment of silence, quickly followed by a ripple of cheerful greetings and offers of hospitality. Pretending to only have a limited grasp of their language allowed me to eavesdrop on various conversations as I circulated through the room, but I wasn’t learning much I didn’t already know. An hour later, I still had no idea who the host was, or even whether this gathering was taking place in someone’s home or in some kind of public drinking hall. I felt obliged to accept every drink that was pressed into my hands, which meant frequent trips to the washroom to remove and dispose of accumulated toxins. Aesir alcohol is famously strong, and while I had a high tolerance for it in any form, the amount that I was being given would have incapacitated a being twice my normal size. As it was, I didn’t have to feign muddle-headed tipsiness.

After the third party, the tipsiness was turning to drowsiness, and I was more than a little annoyed. I leaned against the wall outside the latest drinking hall and sighed as I consulted my personal guidance pattern to determine the next party to try.

“Worn out so soon? The festivities have only just begun, you know.”

My head snapped up and I blinked at Loki, strolling towards me down the corridor. His outfit seemed only slightly less formal than what he had worn to the ceremony and banquet the night before, though I saw with some regret that he wasn’t wearing his fetching horned helmet. His smile was just shy of a smirk as he approached, hands clasped behind his back.

“It might take me a while to get used to Aesir entertainments,” I said, shutting down the guide pattern and straightening up from the wall. “It’s a bit more—boisterous than I was expecting.”

“You’ve only seen the entertainments of the commoners,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “I am glad that I found you, as I’m on my way to a gathering that I suspect will be far more to your tastes. Would you care to accompany me?”

“That sounds delightful.” I smiled and fell into step beside the Jotun.

We left the palace and walked along a broad, open-air avenue, lined with huge statues and graceful trees, stone arches framing the breathtaking night sky. Light fell from enormous torches held aloft by the figures far above, providing plenty of illumination without obscuring the stars and creating the appearance of gently flickering firelight. The overall effect was lovely, although I felt it was somewhat spoiled by the looming, grandiose figures of ancient Aesir heroes.

“Were you trying to get my attention earlier today so you could bring me to this other party?” I asked as we walked. I suppressed a wince at my own bluntness, but I was intoxicated enough that attempting a more subtle approach would probably just end up confusing myself.

Loki chuckled. “In a manner of speaking, yes. Although it’s more accurate to say that this party is a result of your response to my unspoken overtures.” I nodded slowly, digesting this information.

“As far as why I am attempting to contact you particularly, rather than one of the diplomats…” He seemed to hesitate for a moment. Something bright flickered across his aura, too quickly for me to identify. “You were the one facing me in the throne room. Target of opportunity, as it were.”

“Ah. Fair enough,” I replied, accepting this explanation at face value, although it was obvious that it wasn’t the whole story. I made a mental note to try to tease the real reason out—probably at some later time when I was more alert.

“Speaking of the throne room—you obviously know who I am.” He smiled and raised his eyebrows, but it took me a moment to catch on.

“Sigynazor,” I said, sounding out my name as closely as possible in the Aesir dialect. “But please, call me Sigyn.”

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sigyn.” 

We walked in silence for a few minutes. I wasn’t sure if the distance was really so far, or if he was deliberately taking a longer route.

“May I ask you a—potentially delicate question?” he said.

“Of course,” I responded a bit absently, still trying to figure out where exactly we were.

“What gender are you?”

I stiffened, breaking stride a little, then took a silent deep breath and gathered my composure. I had been warned about this, we’d discussed and rehearsed it thoroughly, but I had been distracted, and perhaps not expecting it so soon. I also felt a tiny bit disappointed in the Jotun, though it was very likely that he hadn’t known better.

“I’ve offended you,” he said, pausing in the shadows beneath an enormous tree. “I apologize, and withdraw the question. Please, forget I asked.”

“No… it’s all right.” I looked at him and made an effort to smile. “Just so you know—we don’t mind talking about our genders or reproduction in general terms at all, but among my people it’s considered incredibly rude to ask a person their gender directly. If a person wants it known, they’ll signal it one way or another, though we wouldn’t expect someone of another species to be able to decode or even notice the signals.”

Loki half-bowed with an open-handed gesture. “I understand, will remember, and will endeavor to discreetly let others know, to avoid future offense.” If we hadn’t been standing in a dimly-lit patch, shaded from the wavering light of the giant torches above, I probably would have missed the flicker of golden curls that spun across his aura as he spoke like faint smoke in a breeze, and dissipated in seconds.

I nodded to him briefly. “Thank you. I use the pronoun set zie-zir—’Zie is over there, I have met zir.’ Perhaps we can… discuss it later, when we’ve gotten to know each other better,” I added, unsure whether he would pick up what would have been a blatantly flirtatious hint to another of my kind. He smiled in response, the colors of his aura flowing rapidly in patterns I didn’t quite know how to decipher. After all the work I’d done to research the Aesir, being unable to read Loki was both frustrating and intriguing.

“Please allow me to clumsily change the subject,” he said, his smile widening to almost a smirk as he gestured to a nearby archway. “We are nearly at our destination.” We walked the rest of the short distance to an unimpressive wooden door in silence.

I had been expecting a blast of the usual noise—cheers, laughter, singing—when the door opened, but instead the first thing I heard was delicate instrumental music. Two Aesir sat on a dais on the far side of the room, playing unfamiliar instruments in a haunting, complicated duet. The rest of the room was occupied with a scattering of young people, sitting or standing, listening to the music or talking quietly. Loki paused in the doorway without speaking, and I took advantage of the opportunity to close my eyes and enjoy the sensory experience. The aetheric currents, the low murmur of the crowd, the smells of food and flowers, the gentle brush of a light breeze, all wove together into an intricate tapestry of sensation as I imprinted the scene on my memory, saving a few minutes of unexpected beauty in Asgard to be recalled and savored again over the course of my long life to come.

The music ended, and there was a wave of light applause as I opened my eyes. The partygoers turned to face us with expressions of pleased anticipation. Stepping forward, Loki gestured across the room. “Good evening, my friends,” he said, and just that easily, he became the focus of the entire gathering. I would have suspected some kind of sensory magic or even mind control, but I could see that he wasn’t manipulating the aether.

“I am pleased to introduce you to Sigyn,” he continued, “a member of the delegation from Nastrond. Sigyn, this unruly rabble is collectively known as the New Constellation.” He half-turned in my direction and added in a theatrical whisper that could clearly be heard across the room, “They wouldn’t let me pick the name.” Far from being offended, there was a ripple of laughter from the crowd, and even some applause.

Loki then led me on to a few more individual introductions. It was interesting to watch these young Aesir nobles competing to catch Loki’s attention, and their almost giddy responses when he spoke to them personally. I wasn’t sure how much of it could be attributed to his lofty position in the ruling court of Asgard, and how much of it was a result of his personal charm. He deposited me in a small group under the care of an Aesir named Ragnar, who was fascinated by the political and social structures of other realms, particularly in the idea of government by elected representation. There was a constant circulation of people in and out of our little half-circle of chairs, but all of them were at least passingly interested in the discussion. Some of zir questions were clumsy and misguided, but others were surprisingly insightful, and at times I had difficulty maintaining the shroud of mystery that we habitually used among outsiders. I had unexpected help from Loki, who always seemed to drift past the conversation just in time to deflect it away from uncomfortable lines of inquiry. Although I couldn’t give him my full attention, I did notice that Loki had made a minor aetheric connection to me that allowed him to listen in on my conversation. Amused, I allowed the link to remain in place.

As the night wore on and the alcohol continued to flow, the conversation became more abstract, then downright silly. We were exchanging and explaining jokes when I felt a gentle pulse of warning from the aetheric assistant-pattern woven around my wrist, reminding me that I would be expected to be on guard duty in the morning and that I needed at least a few hours of sleep.

Even as I began to make fumbling excuses and farewells, Loki appeared at my side. I relaxed and let him do the social work of extracting me from the conversation, and then from the party. A few minutes later, we stood once again on the torchlit avenue. The light, chilly breeze helped clear my mind a little, but I was still more than slightly intoxicated, and the palace looked very far away.

“I don’t suppose you can ride a horse,” Loki said, with an appraising look.

“I do suppose I could,” I replied with tipsy dignity. “I never have, though, and I’d prefer not to try learning tonight.”

He smirked at me. “A boat, then,” he said, taking a trinket from his pocket. He blew into it, producing a piercing whistle, then put the device away. “We shouldn’t have more than a few minutes to wait—less, if the boatman is sufficiently attentive.”

I nodded, then yawned hugely, remembering halfway through that I was supposed to cover my mouth. “Why horses?” I asked.

Loki blinked at me. “Why what?”

“Why do you use horses?” I clarified, leaning against a low wall and trying not to yawn again. “You have skybarges. Wouldn’t they be more efficient?” I didn’t mention teleportation, since it was obvious that the Aesir either didn’t have that technology or chose not to use it casually for whatever reason.

“Hmm… that’s the kind of question that would have delighted the New Constellation,” Loki said. We both looked up as a quiet hum descended from above. The skybarge came to rest alongside us and we stepped aboard. Loki said a few words to its pilot, and then we were gliding through the night sky, the lights of Asgard diminishing and flowing below us.

“Some people from that party we just left would say it’s because our society is stagnating in anachronism,” he said, leaning back on the barge’s padded bench. “When Asgard was created, it was an island of stability in an ocean of war. The foundation of this city is an ancient citadel, and everything that was first built here had to have a strategic reason. In that age, horses were a priceless resource, and they became a symbol of Aesir civilization as we rode them across the realms.”

I nodded. “Yes, but—surely you could have used them as, well, symbols, without having to keep the actual animals?”

Loki laughed. “You think they’re just animals?” he said, in a gently mocking tone. “They may be an archaic affectation, kept mostly for reasons of sentimentality, but we’ve been raising and breeding them for hundreds of thousands of years.”

The skybarge landed on a platform that I recognized as being fairly near our suite. We disembarked, and Loki waved the driver away, then turned back to me. I realized that he was noticeably shorter than the form I was wearing. Between his ancestry as a Frost Giant and the larger-than-life force of his personality, this detail caught me by surprise.

“Aesir horses are nearly as strong as our warriors,” he continued. His tone and stance were casual, but I could see curling tendrils of green in his aura that seemed to reach out towards me and then twine back on themselves, like strands of water weeds in a gentle current. “They regenerate almost as quickly, and are intelligent enough to carry out complex battle maneuvers on their own initiative—as well as decide when to follow orders and when to ignore them.”

“Almost as smart as Aesir?” I teased, but Loki nodded.

“They live for centuries. Those of us fortunate enough to have horses think of them… less as property, and more as companions, even friends.” He paused, and as I tried not to stare at the wisps of his aura swaying towards me, he suddenly smiled. “I hope one day I might take you to meet my friend, Svadilfari.”

“I’d be honored.” I smiled back, then hesitantly reached up to make the Aesir shoulder-patting gesture that indicated friendship. Before I could touch his shoulder, Loki intercepted my hand and gently pulled it aside, pressing the back of it to his lips while keeping eye contact with me.

At the end of a long, eventful day, trying to process large quantities of alcohol while perilously close to exhaustion, I was at a complete loss for a response. I stood frozen, staring at him as my body reacted for me. My heartbeat and respiration rate quickened, blood rushing through my veins. I tried to slow my breathing, and quickly realized that if I did I might actually lose consciousness. My face felt uncomfortably warm.

Loki held my hand still, watching my face, then released me with an enigmatic smile, even while his aura coiled around my hand as if trying to maintain contact. I made an inarticulate noise, still wondering if I was about to pass out.

“Thank you for a delightful evening,” he said, giving me one last half-bow before turning and walking down the corridor without a backwards look.

I stood there for several minutes, until I was reasonably sure I could make it into our suite without falling over. As soon as I entered, Laharu told me rather grumpily that I had won the draw to sleep in the sauna room with Daucus. I immediately stripped off my clothes and stepped into the cozy, steaming warmth. Daucus was already deeply asleep, only twitching hir tailtip once as I transformed into my native shape and then sprawled out alongside hir.

The heat helped me burn the last of the alcohol toxins from my body, and I sighed deeply, then began replaying the events of the evening in my mind. I was expecting to fall asleep while doing so, engraving the memories for later detailed scrutiny. Instead I lay awake, dozing but not quite sleeping, eyes half-closed in the darkness as I inspected the scenes I had witnessed. I lingered over the last few minutes, when Loki had kissed the back of my hand, with particular enjoyment. My quiet, rumbling purr echoed through the chamber, until a combination of ideas snapped together and I reared my head up with an abrupt snort. Daucus’ tailtip twitched again, and I rested my head back down on my forelimbs, but I wasn’t purring any more.

When Loki had asked my gender, I’d assumed it was a lack of understanding on his part. But I knew the descriptions of the forms we were all officially to use in Asgard were in the documents we’d supplied for the embassy long ahead of time, including our preferred genders and pronouns. Not to mention that the dossier we’d sent ahead had specific explanations and instructions about discussing such things diplomatically. It seemed unlikely that Thor would have read the documents, but even without knowing beforehand that he’d be part of the negotiations, it seemed even more unlikely that Loki hadn’t. It still might have been an innocent misunderstanding—but the timing of when he’d asked, just before bringing me into the party, was a factor as well. What better way to ensure I’d be a bit off-kilter right before introducing me to the gathering? He’d surely noticed that I was at least mildly intoxicated, and while he hadn’t brought me any drinks at the party, plenty of others had been happy to keep a full cup in my hands at all times. Had he been hoping that I’d let something slip? Had he, in fact, set up the entire situation to impress me, draw me into the orbit of his charisma with the appearance of informal, reliable friendliness? And then sealing the evening with a kiss on the back of my hand, a gesture that he had to know I would recognize as an Aesir courtship signal?

Looking back over the memory of when he’d asked my gender, I saw again the tracery of golden curls that flickered across his aura. As I examined my memories of the evening, I realized that I’d seen it a few other times as well, though not so clearly. In fact, I’d seen hints of it almost every time he’d moved in to intercept my questioners.

My tail lashed fretfully against the floor as I understood that I’d just learned how to recognize the aetheric representation of guile in a Jotun.

Aizerue had been right, I reflected as I coiled my tail tightly around myself. He was a Frost Giant, but he’d been raised in Asgard, and I couldn’t trust Loki any more than I could any of the other Aesir. He was playing political games with me, just as I was supposed to be doing with him. Though it had happened long before I was hatched, our people’s betrayal by the ruling family of Asgard was the reason we were here—the reason we had gone to war against them, and the reason I could never trust anyone related to Odin Borson, even by adoption.

I reminded myself to debrief my memories of the evening to Aizerue in detail as soon as possible to make sure I hadn’t inadvertently spilled any of our secrets, and see if we could figure out if any of theirs had been revealed. As I began my sleep-inducing meditations, I thought again about the attention-seekers that had clustered around Loki at the party, and resolved myself not to become one of them.


	5. Tantrum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At least one member of Asgard's ruling family is not pleased with the direction the diplomatic talks are taking.

The next day passed uneventfully. Loki made brief eye contact, but didn’t wink or give any other indication of favor when he walked past me to the conference room. I wanted to be relieved, but instead felt mildly disappointed.

That evening, I went over my impressions of what I’d observed at the party with Aizerue and Daucus. They confirmed that I hadn’t leaked any important information, and that Loki was definitely up to something, although they couldn’t agree what exactly his intent was. I also shared my theory that the golden swirls across his aura indicated deliberate deception. At my request, Laharu created a minor spell that would help me burn off alcohol more quickly and added it to the aetheric pattern of my Aesir shape. The rest of the guards ended up using it too, though the diplomats chose to go without.

Those new pattern adjustments were soon put to the test. Each of us eventually attended a party or two over the next handful of evenings, the guards alone or in pairs, the diplomats always with one or two guards. When we were alone, we could participate in the revelry if we chose, but when we were on duty with our seniors we had to maintain the stoic, expressionless image we’d cultivated so carefully.

We were all very aware that we were always being watched. The policy decided on before we arrived was that we would not block our quarters from Heimdall’s view unless there was an emergency, while Scathsa’s security net identified and disabled anybody else’s attempts to monitor our suite. As soon as we walked out of the door, though, we were fair game for anyone who wanted to spy on us in the palace. We spotted at least half a dozen cameras aimed at our door during our time in Asgard, but there was only ever one aetheric tracer buzzing around, and it always followed me in particular. I didn’t mind much, since I had a similar tracer on Loki, following him whenever he left his own well-warded rooms. I had no idea if he was aware that I was watching him exactly as he was watching me, since he never brought the subject up, and I certainly wasn’t going to be the one to broach the topic.

By the fourth day, things had settled into a routine. I’d been passing the time during the afternoon shift by practicing aetheric mind-weaving—the art of creating magical patterns without using one’s hands, a skill I was rather weak in and determined to improve—when Thor burst out of the meeting room, slamming the doors open, his aura blazing with fury. The half-formed pattern disintegrated immediately as my attention snapped to the angry Aesir.

“You would give the very ground we stand on to these creatures!” he roared, holding out his right hand in a strange gesture. “We know their history, we know they cannot be trusted. These negotiations are a farce!”

Something came whirring down the hall, a streak of light that I barely had time to register before it smacked firmly into Thor’s hand. Mjolnir glazed with aetheric and technological power, brightly enough to make my eyes water. 

“They are here to learn our defenses, find our secrets, and once they have that knowledge they will use it to invade and destroy us.” Thor glared at myself and Malalik, who happened to be standing beside me on the same side of the doorway. We looked back impassively, though both of us were tense, acutely aware of the power of the weapon he held.

“Thor… we have spent centuries laying the foundations for these talks,” one of the Aesir diplomats said in a weary tone, still inside the room. Zie had obviously given this speech several times already. “The Niddroghn have complied with every security demand, have even given us information to guarantee—”

“Enough!” Thor waved his hammer in our direction. I couldn’t help flinching away from it, and Malalik twitched visibly. “I will not take part in these games any longer! My friends have told me of conflicts brewing among the realms, no doubt at the direction of these—monsters.” As he ranted, Loki emerged from the conference room. He glanced around, then walked to stand between us at Thor.

“It is past time for us to ride out and quell those disturbances,” Thor continued, though he lowered Mjolnir to his side as he transferred his scowl to Loki. “Brother, you will come with me.”

“As much as I’d love to join you on your petulant rampage, there are things here that I am responsible for,” Loki replied. His expression was calm, but his tone had a biting edge and his aura rippled with pulses of a dark, greenish-red disturbance. “If you are so intent on abandoning your own obligations to go play at being a petty warrior king, by all means, don’t let me stop you.”

I saw by the white flashes across Thor’s aura that his adopted brother’s words had accurately targeted his tangled knot of duty and guilt, but they were almost immediately displaced by a bloom of dark red fury. “More likely, you’re enjoying the company of these—reptiles,” he sneered. “Your blood is as cold as theirs.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, but didn’t rise to the bait. After a moment, Thor turned and stomped away down the corridor, Scathsa and Laharu stepping back quickly to stay well out of his way. The Jotun sighed, looking around at all of us and then into the room. “I’m very sorry you had to be subjected to that,” he said with a slight wince before returning to the conference room and closing the doors firmly behind him.

We resumed our positions in the hallway, staring at the equally impassive Aesir guards opposite us, but I could sense the crackle of worry in my aura reflected in those of my companions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is mostly-written, and I was hoping to get it posted today (11/1/18) despite being on an odyssey to Denver with a friend for Reasons, but Reasons have conspired to prevent me from doing any writing whatsoever. I will have the chapter written and posted ASAP, but it may not be until later in November. Sorry for the interruption!


	6. A Very Polite Rally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The delegation from Nastrond is invited to a gathering which will expose them to a different view of Aesir society--and introduce them to Loki's latest manipulations.

That evening, everyone in our group was invited to attend a gathering held by the New Constellation. After a quick conference, Aizerue decided that we would all attend. Based on my report from the party I’d been to earlier, our diplomats agreed that the young nobles were more aligned with Loki than Thor, perhaps to the extent of being sympathetic with our position. This seemed the perfect opportunity to test how far that sympathy extended.

As we entered the hall, Loki was the first to step up and greet us. “Thank you so much for coming tonight,” he said, giving Aizerue a half-bow. “I wanted to apologize again for my brother’s—outburst during the negotiations, though the talks should proceed more rapidly and pleasantly now.” He smiled, and there was a quiet ripple of laughter through the audience behind us, though none of us dared show a flicker of amusement that might be construed as mocking the heir to Asgard’s throne.

“You are welcome guests here,” he continued, stepping aside and gesturing to the small gathering. “Please, make yourselves at ease.” The diplomats bowed to him, then allowed themselves to be absorbed into the crowd. As we’d decided before leaving the suite, I followed Aizerue and Malalik shadowed Daucus, staying a few paces behind but keeping an alert eye on the people around them. Laharu and Scathsa faded back to the edges of the crowd, occasionally repositioning themselves to maintain a wider view around our elders. In a fairly short while, the Aesir were ignoring the guards completely, the same way they treated the palace guards as so much furniture.

It was fascinating to watch Loki at work among the New Constellation. He connected each of our diplomats with a young noble or two, introducing them and offering a topic of conversation. He then circulated through the party, pausing to speak to people, making sure goblets were filled, and smoothing over any potentially uncomfortable or unpleasant situations before there was more than a whisper of conflict. I crafted a minor illusion to make it appear that I was giving Aizerue my full attention, so I could continue to observe the Jotun’s behavior. None of the Aesir so much as blinked, but Loki glanced in my direction and flashed me a smirk, clearly aware of my attention.

It wasn’t difficult to pick up the general theme of conversations in the gathering, even though I was barely listening to them. Most of the New Constellation had learned of Thor’s behavior in leaving the conferences, and agreed that his behavior showed it would be a long time before he was ready to take the throne of Asgard, if that time ever came. I heard it expressed several times that Loki would make a much better ruler, though never in the Jotun’s presence. More curiously, I also overheard a few mentions of Ragnar as a potential king of Asgard, which seemed very odd considering his well-known, passionate interest in the virtues of a representative government. There were also many expressions of concern and sympathy for our delegation, and wishes that the peace talks would proceed smoothly so that perhaps more Niddroghn could visit Asgard.

I quickly realized that Loki didn’t have much interest in actually changing the way Asgard was ruled. He supported the idea of a representative state in conversations with the group, but the gold curls in his aura indicated quite clearly that he had other ideas in mind. What those other ideas might be… I could guess, but he kept his true plans carefully guarded.

After an hour or so, one of the Aesir stood on a raised platform at one end of the hall and clapped for attention. The crowd quieted, most of them sitting down, although of course those of us who had the roles of guards continued to stand. Several members of the New Constellation then took turns giving speeches. I was a little surprised at how brief and entertaining the speeches were, until I noticed Loki’s subtle aetheric manipulations at just the right moments, and realized that not only had he probably written most of them, he was also coaching them as they spoke. The general theme of the speeches was, unsurprisingly, that the New Constellation welcomed a treaty with Nastrond, which would bring about a new golden age of peace and prosperity for both our peoples, as well as some political change in Asgard which was agreed to be quite overdue. I couldn’t tell if the speeches were for our benefit, or for that of the young nobles themselves, but it seemed that this event had been planned some time ahead.

Eventually, Loki himself stood up on the platform. “I am afraid that our friend Ragnar was unable to attend this gathering,” he told us. “He would no doubt have spoken of the value of a system of representative government, but I will not attempt to do so in his stead, as I am sure I could not match his passion or eloquence on the subject.” He smiled, and the crowd laughed in response. I watched a ripple of orange-gold light expand out from the center of his aura, and tentatively identified it as pleasure. “Instead, I would like to say a few words about the peace talks I have been conducting with the Niddroghn. Don’t worry, I won’t be giving away anybody’s secrets,” he added, smiling at Aizerue, though our ambassador hadn’t said anything.

“Overall, the talks are going well.” There was just enough room on the little stage for him to take a few steps to either side, and he paced them slowly, his hands clasped behind him, as if he were having a casual chat while out for a walk. I thought of our first unofficial meeting, realizing that he was wearing the same gilt-edged jacket he had that evening, and wondered how much of this performance was for my benefit alone, if any. “I am pleased to report that we have been making better progress than we might have expected, despite some resistance, and since that resistance has chosen to withdraw from the discussions, I hope that we will continue to make significant gains.”

I wasn’t present inside the conference room for the actual meetings, but the other guards and I listened closely to the diplomats’ discussions every evening. We were apprentices as much as protectors, and this vital mission provided the opportunity for a learning experience like no other. So I knew perfectly well that most of what was being discussed in the talks currently was painfully boring minutiae—setting up the legal structure to determine potential taxation on trade that didn’t yet exist, for example, and point-by-point comparisons of scientific knowledge so that both sides could potentially learn something without giving away important secrets. Loki’s speech made it all sound much more exciting, but it was empty of meaningful information. Every carefully chosen word and gesture was enhanced by subtle aetheric manipulations, some of them so subtle that I suspected he wasn’t doing all of it consciously. He beguiled his audience the way a musician played an instrument. I couldn’t help admiring his skill, even while wondering whether I was falling under his charismatic spell.

When his speech ended, there was polite but enthusiastic applause, and a return to casual talk and mingling. After an hour or so of this, Aizerue began making excuses, and Loki assisted us in withdrawing from the party, then offered to accompany us back to our suite. Aizerue accepted, eir aura sparking with curiosity. The diplomats made polite small talk with the Jotun as we rode a skybarge back to the palace, while we four guards stood at attention.

I think we all expected him to bid us goodnight at the doors to our rooms, but instead he asked if he could step inside for a moment. Aizerue gave him permission to enter, with a flick of eir aura at Scathsa to double-check our security. The rest of us guards were somewhat at a loss. In our own rooms, we had the freedom to relax, but it seemed we were still on duty. Aizerue offered hospitality in the form of food, drinks, and a seat to Loki, but our guest waved his hand. We all blinked as his gesture released a tightly-woven aetheric pattern that enveloped our small group.

“I apologize for this diversion,” he said, giving us all a slight nod. “I have cast a spell that will shroud us from Heimdall’s view for the moment, as there is confidential information I must give you.”

He glanced at me as he continued. “Young Ragnar, whom some of you have met, came to me earlier this afternoon in some distress. I haven’t been able to get much information from him yet, only that he has been contacted by someone and offered some kind of opportunity that he finds terrifying—and that it involves your visit here. I can’t find out more from him at the moment, as it appears the information was given to him under the binding of a major geas.”

A ripple of surprise flickered through our group. “Do your people have the skills to break the geas?” Aizerue asked, eir voice placid.

“I do,” Loki replied. “Anyone else who could break the pattern would also have had the ability to apply it in the first place, and since I can’t know who set the geas on him until it’s removed, I can’t trust any of them.”

“Why tell us, then?” Aizerue asked.

“Because I’m fairly certain that your group isn’t responsible for the geas,” Loki said with just a hint of a smirk, which vanished as he continued. “And I may need help. I’m going to relocate Ragnar to somewhere more secure, elsewhere in the realms, before trying to unbind the geas, for his protection and to minimize the chance of discovery before it’s done. It will take time, and will probably cause me to miss at least a few of the negotiation sessions.”

“How would our assistance be required?”

Loki spread his hands, as if offering us something or showing that he was unarmed. “I believe I have sufficient skill to remove the geas, but it’s possible that it may be outside my abilities. Your people are well known for your skills with aetheric weaving, and in this situation, you’re the only ones I can trust.”

“That makes sense,” Aizerue said with a nod. “Daucus is a training master at holistic weaving…” 

Loki interrupted smoothly, his aura swirling with golden curls like smoke in a gentle breeze. “Although an elder would be invaluable, if either of the diplomats are absent from the negotiations, it will attract attention—and suspicion.” He glanced around our little group. “But I’ve seen your expertise with illusions several times. It shouldn’t be too difficult to create an illusion to cover the absence of one guard.” 

It was a transparent, but completely logical, excuse. Aizerue nodded again. “We will make the arrangements, then. Do you require assistance transporting your—friend?”

“No, thank you.” Loki bowed slightly. “I will send a message with instructions for meeting whomever you select to assist me. I should remove the shroud now, before it catches Heimdall’s attention. Thank you, and I will provide you with further information as I acquire it.” Without waiting for a reply, he made a sweeping gesture of one hand, gathering up the threads of the pattern he’d cast over us and compacting it into a small tangle of knots. “I bid you good evening,” he said, giving us all a pleasant smile and another half-bow, before turning to walk briskly down the corridor.

We closed the doors, then stood looking at each other for a minute, before everyone turned to stare at me. “I’m going to need some fast brushing up on my aetheric weaving skills, aren’t I?” I said, managing to suppress a sigh.

Before anyone could reply, from the back of the group Scathsa let out a shout of triumph. “I did it! Managed to grab a sample of that pattern he put up around us, and I’m pretty sure I can recreate it from this. Excellent!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! The next two chapters are already queued up and ready; I'll attempt to get back to posting every Thursday. This is the beginning of one of my favorite parts of this story, heh...


	7. Rendezvous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> En route for a mission of mercy, conversation ensues.

None of us got much sleep that night. Daucus and Laharu worked together to put me through a crash course, part refresher and part new information, about medicinal aetheric pattern breaking and reweaving. Several carefully crafted information packets were woven into my own pattern, giving me insights that normally would take months or years to understand. It’s not an ideal way to learn new skills—the information is forgotten more quickly, and once a large chunk of it is gone, the rest of it tends to dissolve into a mess of confusing associations—but it allowed them to instill me with a variety of techniques that we hoped would cover most of the problems I might soon encounter. 

Meanwhile, Scathsa worked on analyzing the pattern sample e’d taken from the shroud Loki had used, and experimenting with ways to integrate it into our own wards. Aizerue and Malalik analyzed Loki’s words and behavior, speculating about his honesty and motivation, and trying to work out if this incident with Ragnar advanced Asgard’s interests, breached our security, or was just the simple request for help that it was presented to be. I could just overhear their conversation, and it distracted me repeatedly from my tutoring session. Finally, Daucus and Laharu took me into the sauna, where I couldn’t eavesdrop on the other conversation. I wasn’t off the hook when we went to sleep, either. Crowded as we were, we slept in our native forms, sharing dreams to help imprint my studies more deeply into my own memories.

When we left our suite the next morning, all of us were expecting a message from Loki. Instead, even his usual aetheric tracer was missing, and we proceeded to the conference room without incident. The only unusual event was Frigga greeting us at the entrance to the hall, who explained to our diplomats that she had come to apologize for the absence of both her sons, and authorize the Aesir delegates to continue as before. She stayed through part of the morning session before excusing herself with other duties. The conferences continued as usual through the rest of the day, still with no sign from Loki. I’d spent my time in the hall on guard duty crafting a detection and alert pattern, and as we entered our suite, I spread it in the hallway, a spiderweb of aetheric threads to snare whatever message might be sent through that medium and bring it immediately to my attention. After quizzing me to make sure the information they’d imprinted was still intact and accessible to my recall, Daucus joined Aizerue in reviewing the day’s negotiations, while Laharu joined Scathsa in puzzling out the security pattern sample. I laid claim to a far corner in one of the suite’s bedrooms, pushed the furniture into as cozy of a nest as I could make of it, and curled up in my native form, falling almost instantly into a deep, exhausted sleep.

I woke suddenly in the early hours of the morning, feeling a tug in the strands I’d woven the night before. I jumped up, shifting into my guard shape, and trotted into the common room. Malalik was sleeping on a couch near the door, and as I approached she raised her head, blinking at me.

“I think this is the signal we were expecting,” I said, and paused. “Should I put on my armor?”

Malalik yawned. “I wouldn’t bother,” she said. “But then, I wouldn’t bother with it at all if Aizerue didn’t make us wear the stuff.”

“It sounded like he was taking Ragnar somewhere else—possibly another realm,” I said, thinking it over. “The armor isn’t inconspicuous, and it’d be just as much of a bother to maintain an illusion over it, or more. I’ll go without.” I grinned at Malalik as I draped myself in the appearance of my usual guard’s uniform. “I guess I’ll find out just how well Loki can see through other people’s illusions.”

My captain snorted and leaned back. “Have fun with that,” she said, closing her eyes, “but maybe not too much fun. Remember that your job is to bring back information, not give it away.”

I opened the suite door and looked out into the hallway, immediately spotting Loki’s aetheric message tangled in the threads of my own weaving. “I’ll remember,” I said quietly, closing the door behind me and reaching up to accept the message.

It draped me in the shroud Loki had used before, the one he claimed Heimdall couldn’t penetrate, and gave me a simple pulse of information, directing me down the hallway to the skybarge platform nearest our suite. I walked briskly, but stayed alert. Whatever the Jotun’s intentions, there was always the chance of others willing to seize a convenient chance for violence.

A small, sleek skybarge was tethered at the dock, covered in the same ward that had been wrapped around me and making the barge as difficult to see as if it was formed from clear glass. As I approached Loki stood up and half-bowed to me, then did a wide-eyed double-take as I passed through the shroud and came into clear view.

“Ah… decided to dispense with the pesky clothing this time?” he asked, his eyebrows raising as I climbed into the skybarge.

“It was quicker than putting that armor on,” I said, grinning at him. “You should try going naked under an illusion sometime—it’s quite freeing.”

“I was in my third century when I learned that trick—and I did, for a while.” He piloted the craft up into the sky, skimming away from the palace in the growing pale light before sunrise, then turned back to look at me with a smirk. “Mother made me stop.”

I laughed, settling back into my seat. “I’m always a little bit surprised that most Aesir are unable to see through illusions,” I said. “I know there aren’t many technomancers in the court—unless there are some who are good enough to conceal their aetheric signatures from us.”

Loki wagged his finger at me. “I would be giving away sensitive strategic information if I told you that,” he said, his tone playful. He had almost completely recovered his composure, but I could see a slight flush across his pale cheeks as the sun rose.

“I apologize if I’ve caused offense, or made you uncomfortable,” I said, wincing slightly as the thought occurred to me.

“I’m not offended, I’m just… distracted.” He cleared his throat, sitting down on the bench at the back of the skybarge, but keeping his hand on the steering rod. “It helps that you’re so casual about it, and that, well… I hope you won’t be offended in turn, but—there isn’t much to look at.” He made a vague gesture at my chest.

I looked down at my body, wondering if he meant the lack of scales on my coppery-red skin, but it took me a minute to understand what he was referring to. “Oh! These Aesir shapes are for convenience, and specifically designed not to pass as a true member of your species—it was one of the requirements for our visit. So we didn’t bother to add details that wouldn’t show up most of the time anyway. Besides, our natural forms don’t have nipples, navels, or body fur.” I looked back up at him, just in time to see him glance away. “Would it help if I added them on?” I asked, amused.

“No—that would definitely be more distracting.” Now he looked back at me and raised his eyebrows. “You should probably change the illusion you’re wearing, though. That guard armor is very distinctive.”

I nodded. “That’s another reason I left it behind,” I said. “May I copy what you’re wearing, then? It’s difficult for me to build images of clothing from memory alone.”

“Yes, that should be fine.”

“Would you stand up, please?” I asked. “So I can get a good look at how it all fits together.”

Now it was his turn to look amused as he stood, then turned around as I directed. “I’m glad I didn’t wear anything too complicated today,” he said as he sat down again.

I didn’t reply for a couple of minutes, my eyes closed as I created the pattern of the illusory clothing and grafted it to my aetheric form, so the illusion would maintain itself without my direct concentration. I changed the color of the shirt, from Loki’s forest green to a dark red, but otherwise kept the details of his close-fitting black pants and calf-high boots. “How is it?” I asked, standing up and turning around slowly for his inspection.

“Very good,” he said. “I don’t think my gold neckband suits your complexion, though.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, and changed the angled collar to a metallic black. “Should I change my complexion as well?”

“It won’t be necessary,” he said, checking a readout on the skybarge. “We shouldn’t encounter anybody other than… our friend, and this way he’ll recognize you.” He made a small adjustment to the tiller, then looked at me, tilting his head. “You’re either very confident in your abilities or very trusting, to be led away from your companions with a story like mine.”

I leaned back on the cushioned bench and shrugged, a shoulder-moving gesture close enough to a wing-twitch to be natural for me in this form. “A little of both,” I confessed. “I’m trained as a warrior, and we have cause to believe in your—good intentions. And, in all honesty… I’m expendable.”

His expression clouded a little as he watched me. “I see,” he said quietly.

“Don’t misunderstand,” I said, smiling. “I worked hard to secure a place in this delegation, and I knew there would be risks involved. And the elders wouldn’t risk my life needlessly. But if the situation arises, I’m prepared to sacrifice myself to ensure their safe escape.”

He nodded, then turned away to fiddle with the skybarge controls, which I took to mean that he didn’t want to continue that line of conversation. I noticed that the green tendrils I’d seen in his aura before were back, waving gently as if in a breeze other than that made by our flight. They seemed to reach towards me, curl back on themselves to be reabsorbed, then emerge and reach again. I extended my own aura, sending a thread out to intercept one of the tendrils. They passed through each other, and I saw him startle and shiver, then look back at me.

“Why do you want our negotiations to succeed?” I asked. I didn’t know if he’d give me a direct answer, but it appeared to be a good opportunity for a candid conversation.

Loki blinked at me, then raised his chin slightly as the tendrils withdrew. “As I said the other night, I am hopeful that a lasting, permanent peace between our people will open doors to bring about prosperity and enrichment for us all.” Wisps of gold threads trailed around his aura as he spoke.

“Certainly,” I said, nodding. “But why you? Surely you have other things you could be doing instead of working on the negotiations. And don’t say it’s because your father ordered you to,” I added as he was opening his mouth. “I’m sure you could leave as easily as your brother did if you wanted.”

“Hmm.” He considered for a moment, watching me. “In truth, there really isn’t much else for me to do. My brother and I are supposed to be undergoing extensive training to ready us for the responsibilities of leadership, but Thor prefers to go rampaging around the Realms looking for fights, and yet due to his status as Odin’s firstborn we all know he’s going to be the one to become king anyway.” Loki looked out over the side of the skybarge, his aura flickering with dark streaks of blue lightning as he struggled to control his bitterness. “When my brother does ascend to the throne,” he finally continued, “someone needs to have the skills and experience in diplomacy to keep him from starting wars from one side of the Realms to the other.”

I wondered why he was avoiding the subject of his taking rulership of Jotunheim, but put the question aside. I wasn’t supposed to know about that, and I wasn’t going to be the first to bring it up. “So, peace in the Realms, and diplomatic practice for you,” I said, watching the slow curling of golden wisps. “That does give you a solid motivation.” I left the implied question hanging, curious to see if he would take the lure.

From his smirk as he turned back to me, it was obvious that he knew I was baiting him. “Well, there is another, more personal reason.” The smirk melted away as he looked down, as though considering his words. I would have dismissed this as a performance, but the gold curls were diminishing and slowing—not entirely fading, but moved to the background of his aura.

“You mentioned earlier that most Aesir are unable to see through illusions,” he said, finally looking up at me. “Magic—technomancy, the aetheric arts, whatever you choose to call it—is not well appreciate din the current society of Asgard.”

“I’d gathered as much,” I said dryly, but Loki shook his head.

“You’ve only seen the surface,” he said. “There’s a saying you may not have heard… ‘Some do battle, others just do tricks.’” Loki’s expression twisted up on the last word, and he stood up, then began to pace. “I let Thor get away with saying that to my face, but nobody else dares. It’s always in their thoughts, though. I can fight as well as any of them, but no amount of warrior’s prowess can wipe away the fact that I can, and will, use the aether. And it doesn’t matter to them whether it’s to charge my knives with power and save their lives, or create veils of smoke so we may retreat and regroup in safety. Was I ever thanked? Did they ever praise me for my skills? Of course not.” His hands clenched into fists, jagged dark blue lightning flickering across his aura. “All the praise and thanks go to Thor and his mighty hammer, while all I ever received was thinly veiled contempt and centuries of mistrust.”

“They value the physical appearance of power,” I mused, “but are afraid of the subtlety of power they can’t see.”

“Yes! That’s it exactly,” Loki said, sitting down again. “And as a result—it affects me personally, of course, but it’s also weakening our entire civilization, as generations of Aesir are brought up to completely disregard entire branches of scientific study. Some of the New Constellation are learning technomancy, but they don’t take it seriously. They’re doing it to be seen as rebels without taking any actual risks, to outrage their parents, or to make a political statement.”

“So you’re hoping that increased exposure to our people, who use aetheric technology on a regular basis, will help to make it more acceptable in Aesir society?”

Loki inclined his head, spreading his hands out in front of him. “And there you have it,” he said, smiling. There was a bright curl of golden smoke, and I knew it wasn’t the entire story. Before I could respond, though, he was standing up, guiding the skybarge down into a rocky canyon far outside the city. “And here we are.”


	8. Nidavellir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A large cavern is revealed, and a difficult problem is assessed.

I could almost smell the tension in the aetheric currents that was the telltale sign of a hole torn between the realms. I’d sought out and traveled a few hidden paths in my life, but not often, and I wasn’t expert enough to tell the size of the rent, or what realm it was connected to. The barge drifted down until it rested, rocking gently, on the surface of the sea that flowed from Asgard’s central mountains to cascade over the edge of its odd topography.

“You’ll want this,” Loki said, handing me a necklace before draping an identical one around his own neck. As I held it I recognized it as a diver’s charm, which would provide a bubble of breathable air around the wearer’s head as they moved underwater. I debating telling Loki that I didn’t need it, since I was capable of holding my breath much longer than most Aesir and in a pinch could give myself rudimentary gills, but decided that it’d be easier to wear it instead.

“You can swim, yes?” he said, pausing on the edge of the skybarge. I nodded, and he smiled. “I thought so, but it’s always good to check.” Without further preamble, he stepped over the side of the barge, plunging into the clear water.

Once I was in the water as well, Loki surfaced and whistled a command to the skybarge, which lifted up slowly along the wall of the canyon, still covered in its obscuring shroud. “It’ll park nearby, but not too close,” he said, then looked at me holding onto the rocky shelf beside him. “Follow me closely, but do try not to get kicked in the head.” He grinned and twisted a thread of aether around his fingers, giving it a faint greenish glow, then ducked his head under the water and began pulling himself down along the wall of the canyon.

I followed him, using the rocks to guide my path as I swam and trying not to let myself get distracted by the glimpses of marine life I could see through the clear, bright water. The aetheric scent of the hole grew stronger as we continued down, though I couldn’t yet see it. Loki, climbing head-down like a squirrel, abruptly twisted and then vanished below me. I hastened to follow him, and in a moment I saw him again, treading water as he waited for me under a shelf of rock, completely hidden from the surface. He smirked at me, then swam off, gliding just under the stony ledge. The sunlight faded rapidly into a gloomy half-light as I followed the glow of the light in his hand.

The horizontal plane of the rock above us intersected another vertical wall that continued down into the sea. Along the inside corner where they met was a fissure in the stone, making it look like one brick had been placed atop another pair, but the edges hadn’t been perfectly aligned. A triangular hole tunneled into the fissure, and I followed Loki into the dark tunnel.

The uneven walls of the submerged cavern were very close, and I bumped my shoulders, knees, and hands against the stone several times. Without Loki’s light, it would have been pitch black. I could sense the change in the aetheric composition of the water and knew that the passage between realms was close, but I had no idea how long the tunnel would continue underwater. I was very glad that I’d accepted the necklace when I realized I was long past the farthest point I could have held my breath. The cavern seemed to bend almost vertically, so that we were climbing up a chimney, but then abruptly it shifted, and I felt I was falling head-first down into the darkness. I paused to clear my head, and noticed that the light ahead of me had also stopped. After a few moments we continued on. Soon, the passage leveled to a horizontal tunnel again, before opening out into the bowl of a small lake.

I broke the surface next to Loki and looked around. His dim light spell was sufficient to show that we were in a natural cavern. The air was clean, but stale, and I guessed that this chamber was far underground. I followed the Jotun as he swam to the edge of the lake and climbed out onto the uneven rocks.

“What realm are we in now?” I asked, my voice echoing in the darkness.

Loki sketched out a simple aetheric pattern, and I felt the water coursing off my body, leaving both of us dry and warm. “Nidavellir,” he said, as he bent to inspect the toes of his boots, then used another pattern to repair the slight abrasion damage that had been done to his clothing in the tunnel. “This cavern is unconnected from the surface, with a collapsed tunnel completely blocking any entrance other than the way we came. Ragnar’s camped just a little down this way,” he added, gesturing to what I’d thought was a shadow on the irregular wall, but turned out to be the mouth of another tunnel, this one big enough for us to walk through together.

The passage climbed briefly and brought us into a large gallery, much larger than the sauna room in our suite in the palace. I could see the full extent of it by virtue of a constellation of lights in various colors, some attached to pillars, others drifting freely like small clouds. The entire chamber was covered in Loki’s now familiar shroud, and I traced the pattern to a small device, which I guessed was providing power to keep the ward active as well as an anchor for the spell. There was a small pavilion near the center of the cavern, and as we approached it a flap opened. “Loki? Who’s that with you?” Ragnar’s voice was sharp and querulous in the gloomy silence.

“Do not fear, my friend.” As we emerged into the well-lit center, Loki allowed the light wrapped around his finger to disperse. “I have brought Sigynazor, our friend from the Nastrond delegation, to help me. Zie can be trusted.”

Ragnar tumbled out of the tent and stared at me, then at Loki. He seemed healthy, but disheveled, and I winced at the wild fear and agitation that bristled across his aura. “To help? To get this out of me? I can feel them looking for me, they still demand me to do… the thing,” he said, nearly choking on the last few words as he forced them out past the web of the geas.

“Calm yourself, Ragnar,” Loki said, glancing at me before approaching the red-haired Aesir and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Yes, that is why we are here. But we are a bit chilled from our swim—would you be so kind as to provide us with some mulled cider?”

“Yes, yes, sorry, yes my lord, I’ll bring it in a moment,” Ragnar said, the words tumbling out in a stuttering rush. He bowed low to Loki before scurrying back into the tent.

“He’s not normally this—servile, is he?” I asked quietly.

“No,” Loki said, frowning. “In fact, he’s usually—or previously was—my strongest opponent.”

“I was afraid of that,” I said. “It’s… not a good sign. It means that the geas is probably hooked into a very deep level of his aura, to a core of obedience.” I sighed as Ragnar emerged from the tent, with two steaming goblets balanced precariously on a golden tray. “I hope we can preserve his mind.”

Ragnar eyed me suspiciously as he approached, and extended the tray like a shield between us as I took a cup. When he turned to Loki he bowed again, holding the tray up like an offering, and didn’t straighten when the Jotun accepted the other goblet.

“Please, stand up, my friend.” Loki sipped the drink and grimaced, then changed it to a pleasant smile as Ragnar unbent, clutching the tray in both hands. I sniffed my drink and decided to set it down and possibly tip the cup over at the first opportunity. I wasn’t sure how it was possible to ruin mulled cider, but Ragnar had evidently managed it.

“Would my lord care to, to sit down, I can provide refreshments—”

“I think we should get to work right away,” I said. “Do you have a bed in your tent, Ragnar? Could you bring it out for us?”

“… my lord?” the Aesir said, looking at Loki.

“Please do.” Loki nodded in the direction of the tent, and Ragnar scrambled away.

“We’re going to have to do this with him unconscious,” I murmured. “He’s in no state to handle the work we’ll need to do awake.”

“Agreed,” Loki said, as we watched Ragnar push a floating sleep platform out into the cavern. “Let me handle this.”

I nodded and faded back into the shadows, pouring the failed cider out behind a rock as I listened to Loki’s soothing, coaxing voice. There was a brief interval of silence before he called me back out to where Ragnar was settled peacefully on the hovering cushions.

Neither of us spoke for several long minutes while we watched the sleeping Aesir. With his conscious feelings and reactions muted, I could clearly see the geas—a webwork of fine black threads that extended deep into his aetheric field. The complexity of it was daunting, and I realized I was hesitating just as Loki took a deep breath.

“I’ll start raising a lattice,” he said, looking up at me. “We’ll probably need to pull his entire aura off his body.” He raised his hands and began building the aetheric framework that we would use to tether strands as we worked to untangle the massive knot of the geas.

“And while you’re doing that, I’ll slip into something a little more comfortable.” I caught the quick stutter of Loki’s magic and smirked as I stepped back. “It’ll be easier to work in my natural form, without having to maintain any illusions or shape-patterns.” He’d already recovered his composure, and only nodded in response.

I admit I was mildly piqued by his lack of reaction. I was also somewhat nervous about the task to come, which was making me restless and twitchy. I decided to show off a bit in my transformation, while also going through a meditation designed to help ground me in my native form. At first, I was pleased to notice by the taste of his aura that he was watching me, but as I continued the exercise of the meditation I became distracted in the enjoyment of returning to my natural shape.

Finally I sat up on my haunches, giving my neck one last stretch and shake, and feeling more comfortable than I had in days. I opened my eyes to see Loki staring at me wide-eyed over the completed lattice. I stared back, my scales prickling in the current of tension that coursed between us, and realized that we were both experiencing mild shapeshifter resonance. It was weak, due to him being pattern-locked, and I wondered if he had ever felt it before, or even knew what it was. Green tendrils reached over and through the lattice towards me.

“I, ah. I’ve finished the frame,” he said, clearing his throat as he glanced back to the structure of aetheric lines.

“Good,” I said, then paused, floundering a bit as I tried to think of something else to say. I closed my eyes, letting myself relax back into the peace of experiencing my true form, then looked up at him with a smirk. “You’re not intimidated by working across from a dragon, are you?” I asked in a light tone.

Loki replied with a smirk of his own. “I’ve done aetheric work almost as complicated as this while under attack by demons in Muspelheim,” he said dryly. I was both disappointed and relived to feel the tension created by the resonance draining out between us. “Let’s lift his aura up into the framework and see what needs to be done.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... okay, so posting once a week isn't going to work out for me. I am still determined to finish and post this entire thing... just don't expect a regular schedule out of me, okay? I'll post it as I get it done. And thanks for the kudos and comments--they help keep me going!


	9. Breaking the Geas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Powerful magics cannot be destroyed without paying a price.

My original intention had been to unweave or break the pattern of the geas-spell itself, but we soon realized that it was far too complex for us to unravel without more advanced equipment and much more time, and far too powerful to risk breaking. Instead, we agreed to untangle it as far as we could, and cut Ragnar’s connections to it at that point. Ragnar’s pattern would heal—eventually, probably—but it seemed likely that the backlash from trying to break the pattern entirely could injure or even kill us all. I felt a little guilty for having come instead of Daucus, who had centuries more experience than I did, but I also believed that ultimately hie would have made the same choice.

The process was tedious and nerve-wracking at the same time. Every thread that we considered for cutting had to be traced, to make sure we didn’t break something vital in Ragnar’s mind or spirit. I was fervently glad of the years of study I’d put in before coming to Asgard into the aetheric patterns of Aesir. Loki wasn’t as familiar with auras, but he had an intuitive understanding of Aesir reactions to aetheric manipulation which several times saved me from making poor or even disastrous choices. As more of the geas was untangled and cut free, we were able to lift and bind it into the lattice above Ragnar’s aura, where it roiled above him like a cloud of poisonous smoke. It wasn’t sentient, but it was malevolently active, and very determined to stay attached.

After several hours, we both needed a break. I went back for a quick swim in the lake we’d entered through, while Loki prepared some food from the stores he’d supplied for Ragnar’s stay. We chatted and joked casually while we are, but the dark cloud of the geas seemed to cast an oppressive shadow that we couldn’t quite shake, and we soon went back to work.

Finally, we agreed that we had disconnected enough of the geas to try cutting its remaining attachment to Ragnar’s aura. I stood up on my hind legs, stretched out so I could use my claws to grasp and pull the pattern up. It was resisting me, and I found I was straining to keep a grasp and continue lifting it up and away from Ragnar’s form.

“Stop, stop!” Loki shouted. He’d been watching the remnants of the geas that still extended into Ragnar’s aura. We’d hoped that we had found and cut all the connections, but we didn’t want to leave it to hope. “There’s a snarl of it still tangled up,” he said, reaching in and pulling at the strands.

“Cut it loose,” I said, nearly panting with the strain of holding the rest of the geas pattern away from Ragnar’s threads. “It’s fighting me—I can’t hold it up here much longer!”

“It’s curled all around his memory,” Loki said, a note of panic in his voice. “I can’t cut it out, and it keeps tangling back when I pull it loose.”

I started swearing in my native language. I couldn’t let go of the pattern, or it would rebound back into Ragnar’s aura and become even more entangled than it already was. Sudden arcs of pain shot through my claws and I nearly dropped the geas, snarling in surprise and pain.

“Void above, it’s—pull it one more time,” Loki said, his voice hardening. “I’m going to cut it.”

I didn’t have the attention to argue with him. Clamping down on the pain that was creeping up my arms, I strained again, concentrating on holding as much of the pattern as I could while pulling it farther aloft and away from its victim.

At first I thought that the geas had jerked free, and I was lifting it with my own strength. I tried to stop, and realized that it was rising in an explosion of uncontrolled aetheric energy. I was thrown backwards across the cavern, the pattern disintegrating in my claws, and slammed to the ground hard enough to stun me for a few moments.

I got my forelegs under me and shook my head. The lights were swinging wildly, knocked out of their paths by the blast, adding to my disorientation. My body was regenerating, but I could tell that my own aura was badly disrupted.

“Sigyn?”

I looked up to see Loki wobbling towards me, then closed my eyes again, unsure how much of the wobbling was due to his unsteadiness or disruption in my own vision. Shaking my head again, I held up a foreclaw. “I’m… all right,” I said, hoping it wasn’t too big of a lie. “Ragnar?”

I felt Loki approach and take hold of my arm. “He’s fine. Most of the blast went up; he was knocked to the ground, but not injured. He’ll need to sleep for a while.” There was an odd sensation that I guessed was Loki inspecting my aura. “You’re… not looking well, Sigyn.”

I tried to protest again that I was all right, but it came out as an incoherent grunt. Frustrated, I tried to send information to him directly through the aether—that I just needed some time, he should go tend to Ragnar, and by the time he was done with that I should be functional again. I’m not trained as a telepath, and I have no idea how clearly it came across or how much of it Loki understood, but he withdrew. I curled up and went through the grounding meditation again, more slowly and carefully, paying close attention to sorting out my own pattern.

I opened my eyes as Loki returned, and was pleased to see that the cavern lights were back in their serene, slow orbits. By the time he reached me I’d shifted back into my guard shape and was wearing the illusory clothing I’d crafted earlier. I was very glad that I’d thought to graft on the pattern of the clothing when I made it, rather than having to recreate the illusion from memory. Loki helped me stand up, and I smiled weakly. “We should definitely leave now,” I said. “I’m all right—nothing that a day or two of sleep won’t cure—but I’m not going to be able to stay awake much longer.”

“Ragnar is stable and settled,” Loki told me. “There aren’t any branches or forks in the tunnel, so I’m going to have you go ahead of me—if you have a problem, I can help you more readily that way, and I won’t worry about leaving you behind.”

I nodded, and we walked back to the lake. I would have liked to change into a much smaller form and have Loki carry me back, but displacing that much mass with an unfamiliar shape requires energy and concentration, and I was very short on both. I couldn’t suppress a shudder at the thought of what would happen if my concentration slipped and I revered to my native form in the tunnel. The guard-pattern was already grafted to my aura, so once it was activated it took no energy to maintain. Loki turned and seemed about to say something, but instead he draped the waterbreathing device around my neck, then conjured a tiny light spell and passed it to my hand. I gave him a smile that probably looked as terrible as I felt, and pretty much fell into the lake.

Getting through the passage was a nightmare. I kept drifting off, and when I did Loki would send me a gentle push of energy to get me moving again for another length of tunnel. The transition between realms and the tuns of the tunnel disoriented me so completely that I only knew I was still heading in the right direction from Loki’s constant presence behind me. Even my physical regeneration was slower, and I was accumulating many bruises, scratches, and abrasions from the rough walls of the cave. Each time, the pain gave me a jolt of adrenaline at first, helping to clear my head and letting me move a little quicker. As the pain faded the sleepiness would creep back, heavier than before. I began deliberately banging my head and knees against the tunnel walls, dragging myself between each moment of injury.

Suddenly the tunnel walls were gone, and I was drifting in the water. There was a rock wall beside me, but I had no idea what its orientation was, and no energy to figure it out. Loki had to drag me along behind him. I tried to give at least a little bit of assistance paddling, but every time I did Loki had to turn me around from swimming sideways or down, and I soon gave up, going lip in his one-armed grasp as he pulled me the rest of the way to the surface.

The water gave everything a dreamlike quality, and I wasn’t entirely conscious anyway. My awareness flickered, and I thought I might have been leaning against the canyon wall, Loki keeping me upright as something grew rapidly overhead. Then I was tumbled into the skybarge, sopping went and sprawling limply on the floor. I felt myself lifting, and wondered when I’d decided to go flying again, then felt a warm breeze and realized I was flying through the Valley of Prisms at home, letting the warm updrafts carry me in a gentle glide through something that was half memory, half dream.

Some time later, I opened my eyes to a panorama of stars and swirling clouds, glowing purple in the last of the day’s light. I felt like I was wrapped in a snug, warm blanket, but when I tried to pull it closer around me I realized it was an aetheric creation. I blinked, then raised my head from the cushioned bench of the skybarge and smiled at Loki where he sat at the tiller of the boat. “Thank you,” I told him.

“For—oh, that.” He waved a hand dismissively. “It’s nothing.” I would have argued if I’d had the energy, but instead I closed my eyes again, my head drifting down to rest on an invisible pillow.

“Sigyn…” I opened my eyes, but didn’t raise my head, and made a humming noise to indicate that I was listening. Loki stared at his hands, and seemed to be struggling with himself. Just as I was about to drift off to sleep again, he said very quietly, “I am sorry.”

“Hmm?” I blinked and tried to focus on his aura, but my aetheric perceptions were still jumbled, and all I could see was a mass of dark green tendrils that stretched towards me.

“I made the decision to cut the geas pattern instead of Ragnar’s aura, even though you’d warned me not to.” He looked up at me, but in the growing twilight I couldn’t make out his expression. “I made a mistake, and it ended up hurting you badly. And… I truly regret that.”

I propped myself up on an elbow and gave him what I hoped was a stern glare. “You made the best decision you could under difficult circumstances,” I said, enunciating the words very carefully. “It sounded like cutting Ragnar’s aura at that point might have crippled or killed him, and I wasn’t giving you time to try anything else.” Fuzzy-headed as I was, it took me a few moments more to realize how tense he was. I couldn’t begin to figure out why, but I suddenly realized what he needed to hear from me. “Loki… I forgive you.” I smiled and held out my hand.

For a second I thought he was going to drop to his knees, and I think he did too, before he bent at the waist and caught my hand, brushing his lips against my knuckles. He lowered my hand, but didn’t let go as he smiled back at me. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

I left my hand in his grasp as I lowered myself back to the seat of the skybarge, my eyes drifting shut. The green tendrils curled up around my wrist, and I could feel them, soft and warm, against my aura. “Don’t worry,” I murmured, already fading into sleep again. “It should be much easier to break the lock on you.”

If he replied I didn’t hear it, falling back to glide through the Valley of Prisms again, in the company of a vaguely comforting, friendly presence.


	10. Accusation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An allegation is leveled, from a surprising quarter.

I slept during the rest of the trip back to the palace. When we arrived, Loki insisted on walking back to the suite with me, which I appreciated. I was strong enough that I probably could have made the walk on my own, but now I had a piercing headache, accompanied by stabbing pain in my eyes whenever I looked at a light source. When the doors opened, Loki had a brief conversation with somebody—probably Aizerue—which I completely missed, as Daucus and Laharu immediately carted me off to the sauna. I wanted to talk to Daucus about what we’d done with Ragnar, but I didn’t have the concentration to resist their gentle insistence on doing a thorough pattern check and mending on me. I fell asleep in my natural form, and when I woke I felt much better, though still not up to my full strength.

It was very fortunate that I was restored enough to play my guardian role again, as the next morning our entire party was summoned to a smaller, private throne room early in the morning, before the regular time for negotiations. Odin and Thor were present, as well as Thor’s companions, who I’d learned were known as “the Warriors Three” despite the fact that there were obviously four of them. The fourth was “Lady Sif,” a celebrated anomaly for being a female Aesir champion. I knew that in the history of Asgard both males and females had been considered equally capable of being warriors, and there had even been an all-female regiment of elite fighters known as “Valkyries.” I guessed that this might have changed during the era of peace, when Asgard did not need every hand that was capable of holding a weapon to do so, and most martial pastimes were relegated to hobbies or career soldiers.

I didn’t spare much thought for which of the four might be female, since as soon as we entered the royal presence all of us were acutely aware of Thor’s rage. His companions were calmer, and two of them seemed uncertain and even nervous about Thor himself, but the other two were also angry, and powerfully armed.

Odin’s aura was a blank mask of white and gold lines. I didn’t know if this reflected his ability to manipulate his aetheric pattern, if it was an effect of his office, or of the powerful weapon, Gugnir, that never left his side and which blazed with strength that rivaled Thor’s hammer.

We approached the throne and knelt, fists pressed to our chests. “You may rise,” Odin said, his demeanor as calm as ever.

“My son believes he has found proof of your treachery,” he said as soon as we were standing, with the same serene detachment. I suppressed a blaze of surprised agitation in my aura, as I was sure the rest of us were doing. Without knowing the extent of Odin’s aetheric powers, we had to assume he could read us as easily as we read other Aesir.

“I don’t believe, I know it for fact!” Thor snarled. “We tracked down some leaders of the bandits that have been causing us trouble across the realms, who told us that they have been given encouragement and resources from the claws of a dragon, an envoy from Nastrond. Some of them were armed with weapons far beyond what their primitive cultures could have made—weapons that could only have been brought to them along the secret paths, that are well-known to you devious wyrms!”

“What have you to say about this information, Niddroghn?” Odin asked, his tone still impassive.

Aizerue stepped forward. “There are two points that come to mind, Highness.” Our senior diplomat’s voice was as even and untroubled as Odin’s. “The first is that, just as Aesir are free to travel between the realms for their own purposes, so too are our people. We cannot monitor or control the secret ways in the same manner that Heimdall watches the Bifrost. If only one Niddroghn chose to use those paths for ill deeds, it cannot be said that zie represents our entire realm.”

“A transparent excuse!” Thor snapped. “It would be easy for you to set one serpent on this task, and then deny knowledge of it when the deeds were exposed!”

Odin tapped the butt of his spear once on the podium. It should have made no more than a small thump, but instead a tremendous boom rang through the entire chamber. “You have had your say, and will have the opportunity to speak again,” Odin told his son calmly. “Do not interrupt.” He turned back to Aizerue and nodded. “Please continue.”

“My second point,” Aizerue said, “is that we Niddroghn are not the only people who are capable of weaving illusions. It is possible that those you spoke to had been deceived by someone wishing to pose as one of us, either to discredit our mission of peace here, or for other purposes.

“I have a suggestion that may address both of these points,” e continued placidly. “We have the ability to take a person’s memories from zir mind, and show them as an image to others. I believe this power is also known to the technomages of Asgard.” Odin nodded again. “Through this image, it is possible to inspect the aetheric properties of things the person has seen, even if zie has no ability to detect aetheric currents zirself. To solve this mystery, I would ask that another of these troublemakers who has seen the supposed dragon first hand be apprehended and brought back to Asgard for more careful examination.”

By the time Aizerue finished, it was possible to see that the Warriors Four approved of this proposal even without being able to read their auras. One of them was actually nodding agreement. Thor’s expression and aura still showed sullen rage, but he didn’t seem to have an objection to the idea.

“This is what shall be done,” Odin said. He turned to look at Thor. “You will take your warriors and find a person who has seen the supposed dragon, capture them, and return them here, alive. Go now.” The Warriors Four saluted and bowed. After hesitating a beat, Thor did the same, then glared at us and marched out of the room with his companions in tow.

Once his son had left the circle of columns, Odin seemed to relax somewhat, though his aura was still unreadable. “Unlike my heir, I know that every ruler must content with subjects who will take action against his wishes, and I recognize that this person may be a renegade.”

Aizerue bowed eir head. “I have the authority to speak for my people when I say that if it is found that the troublemaker is Niddroghn, we will gladly lend any and all support required for that individual to be apprehended. I am confident that once in custody, we will be able to demonstrate beyond doubt that zie acted as an individual, without our approval or knowledge.”

“That is as may be,” Odin said heavily. “However, if it is found that the person behind these troubles is in fact a dragon, Thor is not the only one who will be incensed against you. It will create difficulties that may hinder the treaty from going forward.”

“I understand, Highness,” Aizerue said. After a formal exchange of farewells, we were herded out of the throne room and back to our suite.

A herald arrived soon after and informed us that there would be no conferences until Thor returned with a captive, and we were diplomatically requested—though not ordered—to stay in our rooms for the duration. Being elders, the diplomats had little difficulty settling themselves to wait patiently. I gave my report about what had happened with Ragnar, and the elders agreed that I’d generally done well, although Daucus said some pointed things about my work on Ragnar’s aetheric pattern that made me wince. After dismissing me, the two of them retreated to the largest bedroom suite to discuss their negotiations and plans.

I took advantage of the unexpected break to spend the morning and afternoon dozing in my native form in the sauna. By the time I emerged that evening I felt completely recovered, though ravenously hungry. I scavenged through the remnants of lunch, just before the evening meal was delivered by the usual contingent of servants and guards. The soldiers were stoic as ever, but while the servants had previously been willing to at least exchange a few polite words, now they kept their eyes averted and worked in silence. After a couple of attempts at conversation had been rebuffed, we backed off and let them finish and leave unmolested.

“Word seems to have spread, at least among the palace staff, of our supposed treachery,” Daucus said, shaking hir head.

“Stuck in here with nothing to do, and now the servants won’t even talk to us any more?” Scathsa complained. “I hope Thor doesn’t decide to go off slumming and party for a month in Midgard.”

“I doubt it,” Aizerue said mildly from where e was sprawled out on a divan. “Thor was very angry, and it’s not in his nature to be tricky or subtle. He’ll be looking for fights, and it sounds like most of the fights easily available will lead straight to our mysterious opponent.”

“And if you need something to occupy your time with…” Malalik said, eyeing Scathsa.

The younger guard shook his head, holding his hands up in surrender. “I know, I know,” he sighed. “Drills, lessons, and training exercises. And I’ve already added that nifty pattern Loki gave us to our own wards, so you don’t have to fuss at me for that.”

“Only layered in, not integrated?” Laharu said, peering into the aether. “Seems a little sloppy, compared to what I’d expect from your work.”

Scathsa reared up angrily, already gathering aetheric threads in preparation for yet another round of ward-working rivalry between the two guards. Malalik rolled her eyes, but I saw the diplomats exchange a grin before they delved back into their own pursuits. I suppressed a sigh as Malalik gave me a significant look, and steeled myself for my own share of drills, lessons, and training exercises over the course of our confinement.


	11. Ambush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A deadly trap is sprung.

After only two days of detention in our rooms, there was a pounding at the doors. Breakfast had already been brought in that morning and it was still some time before lunch should arrive. Malalik glanced around at us, seeing that we were all giving our full attention, then opened the door to find a lone palace guard.

“The presence of your senior diplomat is required immediately,” zie announced. “To be accompanied by one guard only.”

I couldn’t help wincing. It seemed very likely that my expedition with Loki to free Ragnar of the geas had been discovered, since if Thor had brought a captive back we would all have been summoned. Aizerue had evidently come to the same conclusion, as e stood up and nodded to me.

Even during our confinement, our elders had insisted that we guards continue to wear our armor during the time that would have been used for the negotiations, for practice and in case of an emergency. To be fair, they’d also worn their own ceremonial robes and adornments, so we couldn’t complain that we were being burdened unjustly. And, as it turned out, it had been a very good idea.

The guard stepped aside to let us out. Once the doors were closed again, zie led us down the hall at a brisk walk. I noticed a flicker in my aetheric senses, and identified Loki’s tracer pattern following us. I found it vaguely reassuring, and wondered if the Jotun would be waiting when we arrived.

Soon we were walking along unfamiliar corridors and seemed to be heading deeper into the palace, into spaces that felt unusued or even abandoned. All of us had been on edge during our enforced wait, which I suspect contributed to Aizerue and myself not being as wary as we should. I was feeling increasingly uneasy about this situation, but at first I assumed it was from worries that I personally might have jeopardized the mission, or that I’d made some kind of mistake and gotten Loki into trouble. As we walked, the nagging feeling of something being very wrong grew. The guard’s aura showed tightly controlled anxiety, which made sense if zie was expecting resistance or argument, but zir own worried swirling was increasing, rather than lessening. As I thought about it, I remembered that we’d never seen any guards in official functions alone; they always appeared at least in a pair, if not an entire squad.

By this time we were approaching the core of the palace, the ancient stone structure that the modern building had grown from. The hallways here were narrower, the lighting not as bright. I slowed my pace and put out a hand to Aizerue as my instinctive sense of danger finally came to the forefront. The diplomat gave me a questioning look, but then glanced around the hallway and nodded, understanding my caution.

I’d expected the guard to stop as we slowed down and insist that we continue to hurry, but instead zie looked back at us over zir shoulder and then took off running down the corridor. We stopped dead in the middle of the hallway.

“That’s a bad sign,” Aizerue said, eir voice perfectly calm but aura blazing with suddenly activated wards, just before two figures came around the corner of the hallway before us and passed the guard who dodged past them and vanished around the bend.

“And this is worse,” I said, looking back to see three more people standing at the other end of the hallway through the flare of my own wards.

The two blocking the hallway ahead appeared to be Thor and one of the Warriors Four, with the three behind us making up the rest of the set. A quick aetheric double-check confirmed that these were illusions cast over strangers, two of whom were not Aesir at all. On the other claw, that same check also showed that “Thor” was not an illusion, but was somebody who had actually shape-shifted into the form of Odin’s heir. The implications of this were worrying, but more so was the fact that the impostor was carrying a Spellbreaker—a weapon designed specifically to disrupt and destroy aetheric patterns. It’s one of the few types of weapons that can badly injure or even outright kill one of our kind in a single hit by a skilled opponent.

Aizerue had assessed the situation even more quickly than I had. “I can’t shift to my true form here,” e said, moving so that e was facing the opponents in back. “I’m sorry, Sigynazor.” 

I nodded, swallowing past a lump in my throat, before realizing that e probably couldn’t see me and making a verbal acknowledgment. We’d drilled and trained for similar situations, and I knew what was expected of me. I would engage “Thor” and his entourage, making as much of a spectacle as possible, while Aizerue shifted into a smaller, faster, and invisible form, leaving behind an illusion of emself and escaping. Unfortunately, the fact that “Thor” had a Spellbreaker greatly lowered my chances of surviving the next few minutes.

Though it’s possible to retain clothing and items when shapeshifting, it usually requires extra attention and energy, which I couldn’t spare at the moment. Instead, as I shifted I destroyed my armor, dissolving it into a cloud of fine particles which I gathered up and flung at the unknown shifter as my transformation completed. There wasn’t room for my preferred battle form at its true size, but I decided it would suffice at a smaller scale. I left off the wings as well, since there was no way to use them in the narrow hallway. By the time “Thor” cut through the dust of my armor, he was confronted with a bipedal dragon nearly filling the corridor in front of him, powerful back claws braced into the stone, sharp foreclaws spread, spiked tail flicking. I spread my frills, large jaws gaped open, and roared at my opponents. The impostor looked unimpressed, but his companion took several steps back, eyes wide.

Behind me, I sensed that Aizerue had created and used an aetheric pattern to trap the three opponents behind us. “Pass me one of them,” I said in our native language. There was a surge of energy as Aizerue hauled one of the attackers, still immobilized in a shroud of fine webs, along the floor and into my grasp. I easily picked the body up and threw it at “Thor.” In the same motion, I darted forward and grabbed the fighter standing next to the shifter with my foreclaws, dragging him back down the corridor to my starting position. By the time the fake Aesir had untangled himself from his helpless companion, the warrior I’d grabbed was dead and tossed aside. Again, I made a threat display and roared, now spattered with blood. There was another stirring of aetheric currents behind me as Aizerue transformed and fled down the hallway.

“Thor” remained unmoved by my performance. He’d badly wounded his own comrade in the scuffle, but he pushed the gasping body aside and faced me squarely. His aura was a blank mask of white static. We watched each other in tense silence. Between the Spellbreaker he held, his own obvious aetheric talent, and the impression of age and experience he radiated, I was the one who felt intimidated. He smiled, sensing my fear, and shifted slightly. I tried to prepare for his attack, but instead he glanced over my shoulder with a startled expression.

From the corridor behind me, a familiar voice shouted “Left!” I lurched to my left as quickly as possible, hunching against the wall, as two small slivers of bright white light flew past. Unfortunately “Thor” had been warned by the shout as well, and he batted one of the darts aside with his sword. The glow around it burst and a simple small dagger skittered down the hallway past him. He wasn’t able to stop both of the missiles, though, and the other one hit him in his leg.

I didn’t dare try to attack him physically while he still held the Spellbreaker. Instead, while he was distracted with his new opponent, I reached down and grabbed the spiked mace that had been held by the warrior I’d killed. As the impostor snarled, reaching down to pull Loki’s dagger out of his leg, I threw the weapon at him. He turned aside, deflecting it with his shoulder, but another glowing knife buried itself in his exposed arm, making him drop the sword.

I immediately snaked my head forward, snapping at his arm to prevent him from picking up the sword again, and was rewarded with a painfully hard punch to my snout. I yelped, but kept pushing down the corridor, forcing him back with slashing claws and teeth to separate him from the weapon. I tried to kick the Spellbreaker behind me, but the blade seemed to turn with a mind of its own and sliced into my foot. Screeching, I lost my balance and slammed into his chest, shoving him backwards several feet.

“I’ve got it!” called the voice from behind me. I gave “Thor” one final shove, sending him staggering down the corridor, and backed away, limping and trailing blood from my injured foot. AS I retreated, Loki stepped in front of me, holding the Spellbreaker like a shield and a pair of glowing knives in his other hand.

The person disguised as his brother glared at him, then flung out a hand, releasing a pair of aetheric patterns. Loki slashed at them with the sword, but they darted around both of us and hit their targets, the attacker’s comrades still trapped in webs behind us. Aizerue shimmered into view and knelt next to one of the warriors. I looked back at the impostor to see that he’d already cut the throat of his own wounded cohort, and was weaving another pattern—this one targeted on himself. I tried to cast a tracer on him, but he vanished before I could complete the weave and my spell found only empty air where he’d been standing.

Loki turned back to me, but I couldn’t help flinching away from the Spellbreaker in his hand. He glanced at it, then opened a small portal and put it inside. “I’ll store it in a safe place,” he said, closing the portal with a gesture. I relaxed as soon as I felt the weapon’s presence fade, then winced and sat down heavily on my haunches, rolling to rest my weight on my uninjured side.

“Don’t shift,” Aizerue said as e approached me, then bent to inspect the wound on my foot. “It might cause the pattern disruption to spread. We’ll have to reweave it in your current form.” All of us startled, then relaxed as a squad of palace guards clattered around the far corner. “Will you stay and appraise them of the situation?” Aizerue asked Loki, who nodded. “Then I will fetch one of our healers as quickly as possible. Allow no aetheric works to be cast on zir until we return, even pain blockers.” I sighed, then began to meditate in an attempt to diminish the pain as Loki hurried to intercept the guards and Aizerue slipped past them, racing back down the hall.


End file.
